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Don't be an ass. Seriously. If you can't write, you can't write. Period! Don't steal my stuff... if you do, the wrath of the gods of Olumo rock will fall on your head, your hair will not stay combed, mad men will invade your home, food in the freezer will spoil mysteriously. NO-ONE WILL TALK TO YOU AT PARTIES!!!

weird stuff

We searched high and low for this… The real most valued player…. For this week. I lie. I started the search this morning. I lie again. An hour ago.
Modern Family writers are the awesomest. Their actors rock, but the writers? Those guys? WOW.
If you haven’t watched this TV show, you need to drop your device, and go watch it. Whilst at it, you should probably also get a time-machine and move back to the Stone Age… You’ll fit right in and, if you’re lucky, you’ll probably find the stone you belong under.

Then my friend told me about this witchcraft called ‘body magic’.

Here I am, trying to exercise and eat well. And just look at that. Its a sort of underwear corset. And you get all your perfect curves once you put it on. WITCHCRAFT!
I wonder how their husbands feel. Takes a strong man to watch his blurb of a wife roll off the bed, her love handles shaking in the wind, layer upon layer of dough resting on each other as she sits up. Each jiggle of fat causing a minor tremor as she disappears into the bathroom. Grunts and gasps emerge from this locked door… Maybe even a sounds of things tumbling and falling around. Husband sits up a bit; he is worried. And then his ex-lumpy wife steps out, all curved up and is this sexy vixen that all the man them whistle as she walks by.

The husband that walks with his wife amongst the whistles and catcalls without rolling his eyes or having a “you-donno-what-i-know” smirk on his face. That guy… He’s the Real MVP.

Like this:

A month ago, I told you guys I’ld be introducing my fashion and sewing onto this blog… As you can see, from the masses of cobwebs I had to trample through to get this post to you guys; you can obviously see how bad that has gone.
Sadly, for now, there’s no light at the end of the tunnel… At least not till I get a tablet or a new phone or wifi for my television of a laptop.
So, i just have to make do till then. I’ve been keeping a record of fabrics i’ve bought. I could have posted them here, but we know how selfish apple devices are, no bluetooth and all. And the roundabout of posting them from my phone on Facebook and downloading them with my dad’s iPad to download the pictures is errr…. No. Not to talk of the fact that this isn’t my device so, I can’t work with it all the time
So there are lots of pending updates and blog posts:
An intro to an awesome ankara products company, the very first top i made (which i wore to church some weeks back), a cute-sexy dress I wore to a wedding on Tuesday (where I ran into both Omelette AND pineapple… Two of my exes. P.s. I totally have a crush on Pineapple; is that normal? Having a crush on someone you broke up with…? He was just SO cute and treated me all princessy… LOL. I’m so fickle)
Anyways this invitation came some days back:

I’ve gotten three yards of black sequin material to make a short cute dress to wear for that… I know my mum will say it’s a dark color… But please… Black sequins are awesome!
I should show you a picture but the pictures of it are coming out crappy. Apparently, my phone which can’t open two tabs at once takes better pictures than iPad. Imagine.
I hope you all are great and in good health. Welcome to August, have a great month!

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Like this:

I haven’t worked out all last week.
I’m being lazy.
Then i remembered, at the end of the year, y’all are gonna get a bikini pix… Avēc flat belly or not. And these meme-ing people have no chill at all. Can’t have my picture trend on twitter, Facebook and Instagram.
No sireee… So next week, we begin again and hopefully, we’ll stay at it all through to December.

Just out of curiousity, does anyone enjoy working out? Maybe it’s one of those things you do because you have to, not because you like it but because of the result…
Nobody “likes” seeing their menses.. It’s painful and makes everyone and everything around you smell stinky… Makes you feel dirty and grimy. But when you don’t see it… It’s like, “oh my God! What’s happening”… For Normal people though.
I love when I don’t see mine… It’s like christmas. My friend told me it’s because I’m not having sex with anyone that I enjoy it… That when she missed her period, she nearly went mad. She and her boyfriend.. All in tears and praying she wasn’t preggers. She wasn’t but. That ‘s another story though.
How can I enjoy working out more? HELP ME!!!

Like this:

For y’all that don’t know, hairfinity is a medication that makes hair grow more and healthily at the cheap rate of eight thousand Naira or about 50 dollars monthly.
I kid.
That’s like two new shoes or two new bags or some clothes or a whole bunch of things on sales. And you’re dolling it all out hair that grows free of charge… Like paying for air because a floral-scented one has been developed.
My relaxer-free hair clocked two years in April. It’s 95% natural now. And it’s longer than it has ever been IN MY ENTIRE LIFE! It has crossed shoulder-length! I’ve never felt my hair where it is right now before.
AND taking care of it is just as stressful. Detangling, pre-poos, twist outs, hair-wash days… I can go on…
For these hairfinitians who can’t take care of their normal hair and suddenly hope to pop in this magic pills that’ll make it all awesome. I give them giggles and hahas. When it doesn’t work as well and gives them pimples and breakouts, I add doubling over and laughing my lungs out.

… And yeah, from investigation, it’s a glorified prenatal drug and makes your pee smell like fumes from hell. Other things you can use for your hair for hair growth: bull’s sperm (don’t ask me how they get it) and onions (as though cutting them doesn’t get you teary-eyed enough).
But i have a competition to win by december, who knows? I just might get myself some prenatal drugs. *strokes chin*

Like this:

If you’re like me, you have big feet which you didn’t notice or care about till some vengeful souls made a big deal about it with; “WOW! What big feet you have!”
Like when we were at the mall shopping for body parts in Heaven, I went to the big-feet row and picked them as choice means of transit

S P O I L E R. A L E R T.

I did not.
I was born with eensy beety little feet and I grew up and KA-POW, size 42. And no mother, wearing canvases will not have helped.
However, compared to the ideal little feet, I have man-feet and, there are no surgeries to reduce feet. Sadly. And man-feet are not sexy or cute in any way.
But there are ways around this people. Through careful observation I have ways to tip-toe around this issue (that isn’t REALLY an issue but…)
One, by wearing heels. Every foot looks small in those, but let’s be real, heels all the time? No. Way. Hosé. It’s not comfy at all. Once in a while? Yes. But all the time…? NEVER!

And then strolls in option Two; wearing flats. These particular flats have ways that they don’t make my feet look like their size… Actually helping them look smaller. I’ll share with you my tips for this abracadabra mission.
1. Having Bows or glitters or any other design as close to the tip as possible.

2. Wearing Roundly pointed shoes that curve JUST at the end of your toes

3. Make sure only your toes are covered. No more. The more skin shown by your foot, the better. The less flesh shown, the worse. For example look at that accident in the picture below.

These are by Chanel guys. THE Chanel.

4. Long and fiercly Pointey shoes are a BIG NO! Never ever. You’ll look like a clown, boo. DON’T DO IT!

And three, wearing sandals… Apart from normal T-straps, other sandals need only to have straps anywhere but at the ACROSS the ankle. Across-ankle straps cuts your leg in two and elongates it. So keep away from them! Around-the-ankle straps are A-okay!

DEFINITE YES… BECAUSE THERE’s NO STRAPS OVER THE ANKLE, JUST AROUND THE ANKLE

BIG NO-NO, BECAUSE IT GOES ACROSS THE ANKLE

I’ve read about big-feet people avoiding skinnies or long skirts because they leave too much of your feet in view. With the right foot wear, I can get away with anything without been called Bobo, the clown.

With practice, you’ll be picking the right, flattering shoe for your big feet within seconds of trying them on.
You’re Welcome! 🙂

On wednesday, I was out and about (as usual) trying to strike off my to-do list for the day; meet a shoe-repair man for my worn-out suede moccasins, check out a polo club’s policy, get water colour, buy a black and a red eye-pencil, see the bag lady…
Ah. The bag lady. The bag lady and I have a wary relationship. She wants to sell anything and I want to buy something I like.
She can sell a tattered, torn bag to you with cries of: (make your inside-head voice read this in a Chinese accent) : “oh! So beautiful..!”
“Such good taste..!”
“Those holes on the side really match your ear-holes.. and the peeling leather reminds of the frailness of life..”
“Oh so pretty!”
“You make such good choices..!”
“You have good eye for fashion!”
Ma’am… Please.
Shee does this for any bag you as little as look at. Every. One. And i’m stuck with her till i pick a bag.
You see, earlier in the year, I had seen a brown-red leather bag at her shop but, the leather at the bottom was peeling. Otherwise it was really cute. As soon as she noticed my interest, Bag lady was on my shoulder like a parrot on it’s captain. It can be fixed, she said. Piece of cake, she said. All it needs is leather of the same brown shade, she said. She knew a guy she said.
So i paid.
Guess who went back to her shop and saw some black and white crap as the new bottom and as the handle of a bag she had paid for…

“Thanks but no thanks,” i told her as soon as I saw the monstrosity. So, I now have first dibs on anything that comes into her shop that i like.
On wednesday, she called and yours’ truly went over to check. And check i did. Then I saw it. It was the most beautiful white bag ever (shut up, don’t argue). I wanted this bag SO BAD!

“How much is it?” I demanded of bag-lady. She named the price and I didn’t want the bag anymore. In fact, right before my very eyes, the bag started to morph into some ugly crap.
In the midst of it, two parts of my thoughts struggled:
Thoughtster 1: “save for it, don’t get the wholemeal biscuit you take daily, don’t get your hair done for easter, don’t go playing around for like two weeks. That bag is a classic, goes with everything… DON’T SCREW THIS UP. TAKE IT.”
Bag-lady chimed in, feeding off my confusion, “That’s a big woman bag oh… If they see you, they will know that you have arrived…”
Thoughtster 2: “But you’re not a big woman… And You haven’t arrived… Your 63 Kg frame is still hustling.. Why should you strain for just one bag that you won’t carry everyday? Get a clue, Woman! And who the hell is this ‘they‘ you’re trying to please?!”

Let me just say there is no white bag in my room. And I’m not sad or depressed or wishing I had more money. When the time is right i’ll have the chance to get them.. If i still want them, life is funny that way.
And Someone once told me; if you can’t afford to buy two of it, you can’t afford it. I think it was twitter.